Page 16 of Princess of Death

My eyes glanced at Wrath, who continued to stand there and stare.

“That’s fair,” he said. “Bear.”

“Your name is Bear?” I asked incredulously.

“Fitting, isn’t it?”

“Ridiculous is more like it.” I glanced to Wrath again.

He didn’t smile. Didn’t seem remotely amused by the situation.

Bear turned to follow my gaze. “What do you keep looking at, sweetheart?” He turned back to me once he’d determined there was no escape route I could have possibly constructed in my mind.

“I already told you—the God of the Underworld.”

“I either hit you too hard…or you have some interesting taste.” He rubbed his palms together slowly while he stared at me like a predator. “Now, it’s your turn. Tell me your name.”

Wrath interjected before I had the chance to answer. “Lie.”

I swallowed, unsure what to do. I wanted to tell Bear exactly who I was, that my father was the King of the Southern Isles and he would burn the world to get me back. My status was my only leverage out of here, the only thing that might possibly save me from the unthinkable.

“You didn’t trust me before,” Wrath said.

My eyes flicked to him again.

The intensity of his stare never faded. It had remained the same since we’d met days ago. Always burning, always hot. “Trust me now.”

It would be unwise to trust someone who sought retribution from my father, but he was all I had in the moment. If I’d listened to his warning, my crew would still be alive. I’d made a mistake as grave as Hartshire’s. I deserved to be at the bottom of the ocean like the rest of them. “Stephanie.”

“And your surname, Stephanie?” Bear asked. “I’ve never met a female captain. Or one who can fight like a man.” His eyes drifted over my body. “Who has armor worth more than the contents of this entire ship.”

Looked like Wrath was right. I didn’t know who Bear was or who he served. He could serve a potential enemy of the Southern Isles. Would sail there and lay destruction to the kingdom. My father and the dragons could easily defeat them, but at what cost? “Laurier.” I used my mother’s maiden name, the only one I could think of on the spot.

“And who are you, Stephanie Laurier?” he asked. “Because I know you aren’t nobody.”

“Lie,” Wrath commanded. “Lie like your life and the lives of all those you love depend on it—because it does.” Then he disappeared within the blink of an eye, vanished into thin air, made me question my own sanity.

“Who are you, Stephanie?” Bear repeated, unaware of the god who haunted the ship because he couldn’t see him.

“My parents died when I was young. I worked at the docks as a child, learned to sail as a teenager, and learned to survive before I was an adult. I sail the seas because I have no home, no roots, and the next shipment is all I have to live for.” It hurt to lie, to say something so deeply untrue. I had a home, had parents that would give their lives for mine, had a community of people so loyal to my father that they were loyal to me. Had the protection of a mighty black dragon who would give his life for mine because he viewed me as a hatchling. Had a best friend who loved me like a sister. Had a brother who did love me like a sister. It was only then that I realized how stupid this adventurewas, that I had searched the world for excitement and treasure when it’d been in the very place that I’d left.

Bear stared hard into my gaze, eyes flicking back and forth between mine, studying the emotion that must have reached the surface of my stare. “Try again, sweetheart—” He was knocked against the bars when the ship gave a hard lurch to the side, as if it had struck something.

He lost his train of thought in the collision. Forgot about me altogether as he rose to his feet and left the cage. But he didn’t forget to lock the door before he left.

“What’s going on?” I called after him. “You can’t just leave me in here!” The ship gave another lurch, and I flew against the back wall. Then I heard distant screams from the deck of the ship, the terrified cries of grown men. “What the fuck is happening?” I remained against the wall and prepared for another roll in the cabin.

It went on for fifteen minutes, the dramatic rocking of the ship, the cries of the men from above. I held on to the bars so I wouldn’t fly and hit my back against the metal. Thankfully, I was in my armor to protect myself from injury.

Then the ship finally went still.

And it was quiet. So quiet, it made me wonder if I was the only one alive.

Footsteps sounded, slow and uneven, a progression that lacked intention.

I was more afraid of that sound than Bear’s oncoming footsteps. I moved back against the wall and avoided the door.

The steps continued, agonizingly slow and somehow terrifying.

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